The Plain Ones
by Lavenza
Summary: Frank and Magenta go get doughnuts at three in the morning. Inspired by the dream I had last night.


It had been Monday for three hours, and Frank had a sudden powerful craving for doughnuts.

He and Columbia had had the most terrible row just before they both decided to turn in for the night. Apparently, Columbia was still upset that he'd been canoodling with Eddie behind her back. He didn't see what the problem was, but she was absolutely furious - so furious that she had gone to sleep in their bed out of spite, no doubt.

That was six hours ago, and as Frank had a remarkable talent for holding grudges about petty things, he had stubbornly refused to go to sleep in a stunning display of one-upmanship.

Then suddenly, when the clock struck three, he realized what could magically make him feel better again: doughnuts!

This notion filled him with joy for a few beautiful seconds until he realized that there were no doughnuts whatsoever in the house. _Oh well,_ he thought. _I'll just go and buy some. After all, Bob's Fresh Doughnuts is open twenty-four hours a day._ With that happy thought in mind, he began to don his Earthling attire. Ugh...he would never get used to wearing trousers...how Riff Raff could tolerate them was beyond his knowledge or interest.

At any rate, after he had reluctantly pulled on his jeans, pale yellow T-shirt, and pin-covered leather jacket, something dawned on him. If he went to get doughnuts all by his lonesome, he would only be letting Columbia win this passive-aggressive little competition. After all, what could be sadder than a guy going out at three in the morning to stuff his face with doughnuts after getting into a tiff with his girlfriend? No, he would bring someone else with him and they would have a lovely time and wouldn't Columbia be jealous?

Eddie would be optimal, of course, but he wasn't even at the castle - he'd gone out shortly before Columbia and Frank had their spat to do who knows what. So that wasn't going to happen. Then Riff Raff immediately sprung to mind, but Frank certainly didn't want to share his doughnuts with the likes of him.

Which left him with Magenta.

Frank traipsed into Magenta's room, where he found the domestic sleeping peacefully in the enormous bed in the center of the room. A bothersome sitcom droned quietly from the monitor on the wall - she must have left it on to go to sleep to. That made sense: she had shared a room with her brother before Frank had decided to separate them. _Perhaps she misses the voice of an idiot whispering in her ear each night,_ Frank thought with a snicker.

"MAGENTA!" he screamed, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently.

Magenta's eyes snapped open, panic evident in her expression. "What, what? What's wrong?" she demanded, her speech slurred by the bleariness of waking up.

"Let's go get doughnuts," Frank replied gleefully. Magenta shot a withering glare in his direction, then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Frank sighed, pulled her back towards him, and explained his dilemma in as much detail as possible.

Magenta stared at him disbelievingly for a few moments. "So...let me get this straight..." she began. "You want me to drive you to town at three in the morning to buy baked goods for no reason other than so you can tell Columbia about it in six hours?"

"That's about right, yes," Frank confirmed.

Magenta rolled her eyes. "Piss off," she muttered, burying her head under several pillows.

"I beg your pardon?" Frank was taken aback by her brazenness.

"Oh, excuse me. Piss off, _master_," she peeked out from under her pillows to sarcastically correct herself, smiling at him sweetly, then pulled them back over her head and added a few blankets for good measure.

Frank almost went for the whip stored in the breast pocket of his jacket, but then remembered whom he was dealing with. Instead, he knocked all the pillows and blankets onto the floor and dragged Magenta out of the bed.

Still half-asleep, she only grunted in protest as Frank carefully pulled off her translucent nightgown and replaced it with one of her Earthling garments - a rather nice light blue dress that he had stolen on several occasions - then sat her down at the vanity desk in the corner and carefully applied dark red lip gloss and black eyeshadow to her pale face. He then guided her down the stairs and out the front door towards the truck, neither of them paying any mind to the single hole-riddled nylon stocking and pink bunny slippers that Magenta still wore.

Frank almost asked her to drive, but she was still practically asleep, so he thought this rather unwise - in her current state, she was even more likely to crash into something than Frank would be while fully awake.

It wasn't until they started driving that Magenta finally began to awaken.

"So Magenta, what kind do you want?" Frank asked casually.

Magenta's expression was one part confusion, two parts irritation. "What kind of what?" she asked tentatively.

"Doughnuts, remember?" Frank reminded her through his teeth.

"Oh, yes, that's right...well...I don't know, what kind are you getting?"

"Mainly powdered ones, probably. Those are my favourite." Frank beamed at the mere idea.

Magenta sneered with disdain. "Ugh, I hate those. You can keep them."

Frank was shocked. The notion that anyone could ever hate his beloved powdered doughnuts thoroughly baffled him. "Well...well what about the glazed ones? Tell me you at least like those."

"No…too sweet."

"Sprinkles?"

"Oh, _god_ no. The sprinkles taste like candle wax."

"Well then what do you like?"

"Hmm…just the plain ones, I suppose."

This rendered Frank utterly speechless, a rare occurrence indeed. It took him a quarter of a minute to manage a reply of "Why?"

Magenta looked pensively towards the battered ceiling of the truck. "Because...because...aha. Frank, why do you like all the glaze and powder and all those disgusting things?"

"Because they're sweet and delicious," came Frank's indignant reply.

"Right. Each one is a sticky saccharine mess that gets all over your fingers and clothes. But the plain ones...they don't do that. They are...they are so much simpler, so much more reliable. And since everyone seems to prefer the ones covered in sugary goo, I get the plain ones all to myself." A satisfied smile crept across her glossy crimson lips.

Frank rolled his eyes, sighing theatrically. "You know, you could have just said 'because I don't like sweet things,'" he said. "I didn't need some long explanation."

Magenta pursed her lips. "You know what your problem is, master?" she asked.

Frank's eyes narrowed. "No, what?" he inquired.

"You take everything far too literally."

They then arrived at Bob's Fresh Doughnuts only to find that it was closed on Sundays and wouldn't open for another five hours.

Neither of them said a single word to one another for the rest of the night.


End file.
